My Life Line, My Love
by My Silver Dreamer
Summary: The Hunger Games have been reinstated under the new presidency. How will this change the two key rebels. And what will happen with the new District 12 tributes. Pre-Epilogue. P/OC. M for later chapters.
1. Announcement

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything of the HG.**

**Note: I've changed the POV of this story from it's original. It will continue this way from now on. Enjoy:)**

* * *

I walk quickly towards the Hob. My dad asked me to pick up buttons after work for my brother's recently burned shift. In my opinion, Cass is too young to be working in the forge. But I can't really argue. I was only eight years old when our dad finally caved at my requests to learn his craft.

We moved to District 12 the year after the war. Dad had never really fit in among the gun makers of District 2, so happily jumped at the opportunity to move our family here. Not that he was the only one that didn't fit in. Since I was seventeen at the time, having already finished schooling, I had no trouble helping him open and work his new blacksmithing shop in the merchant area.

I didn't know District 12 before the bombings, but I imagine it didn't look much different before than after. The citizens that have returned to rebuild their homes seem too accepting of the state it is in for it to have been a dramatic change. If you look closely, there are still charred patches of earth and some buildings on the outskirts of town that have collapsed. But certain areas have been renovated, like the merchant area and the Hob. The Victor's Circle escaped most of the blast, since the Capital knew its inhabitants hadn't been there at the time. The houses there are now inhabited by the first families that returned to their District.

As I make my way towards the Hob, I can't help but stop by the front of the bakery. It smells so wonderful, especially the cinnamon that they use in some of their rolls. Like everyone in the district, I know that the owner is Peeta Mellark, Hunger Games champion and a key member of the rebellion. I've seen him around town, but have never actually ventured into his shop. While my family had been well taken care of back in District 2, starting from scratch in a new district meant that things were tight. I've been happy to find prey in the woods around the district that are now more open to the public. At least open to those willing to risk the creatures that still roam there.

I stop at the door of the old building that has, surprisingly, survived most of the destruction. While many of the town's people have tried to make better lives for themselves, others are happy to return to what they know: trading. Greasy Sae is like the mother hen of the Hob now. I have heard through the grapevine that she used to be one of the key traders before the bombing. Maybe because of her experience, or just because she is an intimidating woman, she has fallen into the role of organizing the Hob into quite a respectable trading area. There is no need for back dealing and hiding anymore, so everything is in the open now.

I find her at her usual post, trying to sell a set of cups to an old man. I wait my turn patiently and grin when Greasy Sae scoots the man off. "How's the business, Sae?"

The woman flashes her usual, toothy smile at me. "Oh, it's been hopping today. Ever since the new announcement from the Capital. Makes me so mad I could spit." And she does, right into a cup that she proceeds to wipe out and put on display.

Sifting through the buttons, trying to find two that match, I look up at her in confusion. "What announcement?" The best part about working in my dad's shop is that there is no television there. I've been spared most of the terror from the rebellion, but the thought of the Capital still leaves a bad taste in my mouth. In my mind, what is the difference between one leader and the next? They all have a distorted view of what is good for their people.

Greasy Sae coughs awkwardly. It's unlike her to not simply blurt out her thoughts. This puts me on edge more than anything. She squares her shoulders and gives me a look that borders on pity. "I'm sorry, child. But the new president has brought them back."

I furrow my brow, not understanding. "Brought who back?"

"The games, girl!" she almost whispers, trying not to draw attention to our conversation.

My blood feels cold in my veins. I'm still seventeen, well within the reach of the Capital's twisted arms. "I have to get home," I try to say evenly. Paying quickly, I make every effort to appear aloof and unaffected.

Inside I'm screaming.

* * *

I practically run through the merchant square. I smell the cinnamon again, wafting out of the bakery. I wonder if I'll ever have the chance to try their bread again. Stopping abruptly, I rummage in my pocket and pull out a few coins. It's enough to buy something small, I'm sure.

Walking up to the door, I hear a heated argument inside. "How the hell could you ignore this, Katniss! You could have stopped it." It's a man. I figure it must be the owner, Peeta.

"You know I can't go near them. They make me sick! How could you expect me to go to the Capital after what happened to Prim?" The woman has to be the famous Katniss, the Mockingjay that I've heard so much about.

I don't want to eavesdrop, but I can't pull away from such an important conversation. I hear a loud thud. "So you just let them continue this bloodshed because you can't come to terms with your sister's murder, is that it? That's selfish, Katniss, and you know it."

"Well then I'm selfish. No matter what I did, no matter what any of us did, it didn't change anything! Children are still starving. There's still the rich, and the poor, and it's never going to get better. Why not let the games continue as well?" I hear her coming closer to the door and jump out of the way, just in time.

Katniss storms out, a fierce sight to behold. I've never actually seen her in person, since she tends to stay out of the public's eye, even in her own district. Her hair seems untidy, but pulled back into a braid. Her clothes are covered in blood, probably from the animals hung around her belt. In truth, she scares me, which is saying a lot. I don't scare easily, being a hunter in my own right. But Katniss is deadly.

Taking a big breath, still determined to get something sweet for my family, to calm their hearts after today's announcement, I quietly walk into the shop. The customer area is small, but clean. Racks of different sweets are organized and labeled. I see a room in the back where Peeta seems to be cleaning up a mess. He seems really preoccupied, so I take a few minutes to look at the pastries.

I quickly find the cinnamon rolls that I always smell from the street. The swirls are complimented by tiny swirling patterns in caramel on top. I am practically drooling when my thoughts are interrupted. "See something you like?"

Turning around, I am surprised to see Peeta smiling. Especially after that blowout moments ago. Deciding not to bring it up, I smile back. "Yeah. The cinnamon ones, actually."

Peeta walks over behind the display and gets one out for me, wrapping it and placing it in a bag. "You're the smith's daughter, right?"

I'm startled. I can't imagine how he'd know me, since we've never actually met. That is, until I look down at my clothes. I'm still covered in soot and wearing my work apron. Brushing away a loose hair I smirk at him. "Yeah, that's me. A modern Cinderella."

I'm surprised he gets the reference, even more so that he laughs. I'm startled at how blue his eyes are up close. "Well, I'm Peeta," he says, extending his hand. "Pleased to meet you."

I take it gently, surprised at his strength. "Briar," I clear my throat and place the money on the counter. I murmur a quick "Thank you," and quickly walk out into the street. For a few minutes, I forgot what drove me into the shop in the first place. I try to clear my head of any thoughts of the hansom baker and walk quickly toward home.

When I pass through the door, I'm gripped tightly in a hug from Cass. He is still only ten, so can't quite reach my shoulders. I hug him back, "Guess what I have for you." I try to hold the bag out of the way so they won't be crushed.

Cass pulls back and sniffs audibly. "Is that from the bakery?" His smile is the best part of my day. It really is one of the things that keep me going now.

"Yes it is. But we all have to share it," I say warningly.

Cass is his usual understanding self. He grins, "I'll go tell mom!"

* * *

Once our dad has returned, and we've all eaten dinner and the surprise desert, my mom puts Cass to bed. While they are out of the room, my dad takes both of my hands in his harsh grip. To most people, his hands would feel uncomfortably callused, but to me, they are home. "Honey, this was because of the Capital's announcement, wasn't it?"

He knows me too well. I never do anything irrational like this. "Yes," I reply. Normally I don't have a problem talking to my dad. I love my mom, but she never really seems to understand me like my dad. We both have iron in our blood. The fire from the furnace is like water to us. Cass is trying to follow in our footsteps, but is failing.

My dad looks me squarely in my eyes. "We'll deal with it if it comes, Briar. You don't have to take out tesserae, so that diminishes your chances greatly. And you only have these two years to dodge the bullet." He clears his throat. "We've been lucky in this new life so far. Maybe our luck will continue."

I try to be as calm as him. But inside I feel like a thunderstorm. Raging. I simply nod my agreement not to worry

My dad gently squeezes my hands before letting go. "The reaping is being held tomorrow. They're trying to avoid bad reactions by moving quickly."

Feeling my heart jump into my throat, I nod again, not able to form words. I try to sleep that night, but all I can think about are the videos of games past. How my family had feared me being reaped before the war, the peace and relief afterwards, and now having to go through it again.

I've barely shut my eyes before my dad is waking me again for another day in the shop. I'm determined to lose myself in work this morning. I want to act normal as much as I can.

As I say my usual goodbye to Cass and our mom before we head out, I hold back tears. Something in my gut tells me I won't be returning here again.


	2. Reaping

I thank whatever the people in District 12 believe in that I work with fires. Having spent a good five hours in the forge with dad, I have to take a bath to get all the soot off before attending the reaping. Having constant access to fire means warm baths.

After drying off, being careful in the small room that was built onto the back of the forge, I get dressed. We use this most days after work so we don't have to come home a complete mess. I'm grateful even more now, because it means one less chance to see that look in mom's eyes. Or Cass's.

As I walk into the square, I'm startled at how silent everyone is. Back in District 2, possible tributes were constantly crowing of their battle skills and couldn't wait to be chosen. Here you could imagine someone had already died. Sure, their last tributes had both survived. But it was only the third time in 75 years for them to do so. It seemed like District 12 doubted that their luck would hold out.

Stepping in line, I wait to have my blood drawn for identification and attendance. They then direct me to a group of girls my age, none that I actually know. I find a place among them and look around. I spot my family on the outskirts of the general crowd. Cass smiles and waves, still not really understanding what's going on. How can he? To a child, this drastic change in the approach to the reaping would appear as if it was something else entirely.

If possible, the clearing seems to grow quieter. I hear a distinct tapping sound, like on a microphone, and look towards the stage. I'm honestly surprised to see Effie Trinket returned to her previous role. I guess the Capital is trying to calm the district by presenting a familiar face. Like that will help.

"Welcome to the 76th Hunger Games, everyone! Wasn't that a lovely break we had?" I can tell she is trying to put on a show. But I can't quite tell for whom. Maybe the Capital. Certainly not the citizens of District 12. Effie continues through what I assume has been her usual speech, explaining the reaping process. The big change is the fact that the use of District 13 and the original rebellion as reasoning for the games is completely left out. All explanation, really, is left out.

During all of this, I take a look at the rest of the people gathered on stage. I recognize Haymitch. He is a well known member of the district, from before and after the war. While he seems to have sobered quite a bit from what I remember in the television recordings, he still can be seen most nights staggering back to the Victor's Circle. Alone.

Next to him is the ever fierce Katniss, who I saw just yesterday. She looks different. Fake. Prettied up for the cameras, and completely furious about it. As I notice Peeta next to her, he lays his hand discreetly on hers, trying to calm her. It doesn't quite work, maybe because he doesn't look too happy either. I'm surprised at the difference between the smiling, light hearted man I met yesterday, and the guarded persona that Peeta displays now. No one could question the solidity of that persona, but having met the real Peeta, the one I assume is never caught on film now, my heart feels weighted.

I'm brought back to reality by a loud throat clearing by Effie. "Let us shake things up a bit and start with the boys this time!" It's sad, in a way, that after everything Effie has witnessed, she can be so casual about resuming her role. Retrieving a ball from the boy's bin, she reads loudly, "Rory Hawthorne."

I would think nothing of the young boy who steps forward from his age group, except for the commotion on stage. A guttural yell comes from Katniss, her face flushed red as she fights against the Peacekeepers holding her arms. They silently escort her into the building behind stage, with her kicking and yelling all the way.

Effie, ever the show saver, motions for Rory to join her on stage. She asks him how he knows Katniss, given her reaction. He simply replies, "She's…my cousin." I can't believe the chances. And I know Katniss has no choice but to mentor him, since she is the only female victor for this district.

When it comes time for the girls to be drawn, I look over at my family, not wanting to face the chances. Cass is fiddling with the new buttons I got yesterday. It seems so long ago that I was simply walking through the Hob on a regular errand for dad. Before all of this crashed into my life. It feels as if that time in the Hob is reality. And this is a terrible dream. I guess mom hastily sewed those buttons on for him to wear on this "special" day. Dad keeps his eyes on mine, trying to send his courage through his gaze. But I can still see how white his knuckles are on the railing…"Briar Kraine."

I can't breathe. There is an audible confusion from the crowd, some not recognizing my name. Since I don't attend school anymore, and tend to keep to myself, the only ones that know me would be customers at our shop.

As I step out of my group, Ii can hear my mom bawling. Sweet, innocent Cass is trying to console her. I have to hold back both a smile and a tear, thankful that he still doesn't understand. I walk up to the stage, and am greeted warmly by Effie.

"Now, I don't believe I've seen you around here before, Miss Kraine. Where have you been hiding yourself?" I can tell Effie is genuinely curious, but trying to play it up for the cameras.

I move towards the microphone, as directed, and say, "I'm originally from District 2. My father was a blacksmith there."It is all I can muster. I know the Capital citizens will go nuts with that alone. The chance to see me battle my past and my present on live television. _If they only knew._

There isn't much after that, closing remarks. Everyone on stage is then ushered to where I saw Katniss taken. I'm not able to speak to anyone, not that I would know what to say. Too soon for me to collect my bearings, I am thrust into a plush room, alone.

I am used to these types of furnishings. They were common place back in District 2. Though the smell in here is different. The air smells stale, and I can make out layers of dust on things. I wonder if they have even bothered to look at this room before today.

After a while, my family bursts through the doors. My mom is in hysterics, mumbling incoherently. All I can do is hug her, relishing the warmth and the familiar smell of honey from her favorite soap. "I love you, mom," is all I can think to say.

Next it is Cass's turn. Our dad takes mom to the door, where she is escorted out of the room. I know she doesn't have the heart to see her daughter sent off to slaughter. Trying to focus on Cass, I pull him into my lap. "I love you, you little runt. You know that?" Cass was born premature, and therefore it had turned into my own nickname for him.

Cass, confused still, simply hugs me and plants a big kiss on my cheek. I try to hold back tears for his sake. "Dad says you're going away. He says I can't go with you."

"He's right," I reply. "But I'll be back before you know it! And maybe we can get more of those cinnamon rolls like last night." I poke him in the stomach, earning a laugh. When I can't take it anymore, I give him one final hug and stand.

My dad simply enfolds me in the tightest hug I've ever known. He smells of soot and heat and home. "You're my daughter, Briar. You're more skilled than these kids in District 12, and you have more heart that District 2. You will win." His resolve, whether true or false, is what I need right now.

"I will, dad." Nothing more needs to be said. He kisses me one last time on the top of my head and leads Cass out the door.

Drained, I move to the window, expecting to wait a while for the other tribute to say his many goodbyes. I am surprised to hear the door open again. Especially since the person in the doorway is Greasy Sae.

"What…"

"Come here, child." Sae seems to have no time for nonsense. She motions for me to come to her, she I do. In her hand she holds a black ring. It is a simple band in a black so dark it seems to swallow the light around it. But the polishing on it is extremely thorough and precise. Wonderful craftsmanship.

"Sae, where did you get this?"

"I had you're father make it up this morning." At the surprised look on my face, she continues. "I had a gut feeling it would be you. I wanted to give you something to remember who you are in there. Something like this could have never come from my district before you're father came here. But it's pure coal, something not found in District 2." She slips it on my finger. "It's the best of both."

With that, Sae gives my hand a final squeeze and leaves the room.


End file.
